Masquerade Ball
by Ralyndi
Summary: A masquerade ball at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. I'm not writing anymore, so complete, I guess.


She glance in the mirror for a last time before heading down to the great hall. Christine Daae, the co-star of Phantom of the Opera stared back. The girl's appearance was completely changed from her usual sixteen year old look. Medium brown curls fell to her mid-back, pulled away from her face with a single red rose. The young witch had put a charm on the rose to keep it from wilting. Sure, she could have used a fake rose, but real ones smelt better. Not that she hadn't washed her hair... Because she had. Going to the ball without washing her hair was gross, not to mention unsanitary.

And Christine Daae wasn't unsanitary, so this young witch wasn't going to be either.

The next feature she had to alter were her eyes. She did this magically, for she didn't need contacts, so couldn't wear them. Sure, her usual eye color, a shade of milk chocolate, was pretty close to hazel, but the witch wanted her appearance to be perfect. And having her eye color the slightest shade off wasn't perfect. Yes, the girl, or Christine, if you wanted to call her that, was a perfectionist. Her costume had to be perfect to the last detail. That was why she had gotten a picture of Christine, and asked her mother to make a dress exactly like the female in the picture.

And her mother was a darn good sewer, even if she didn't do it for a living.

Of course, no costume was good without make-up. Christine didn't wear a mask in the play, so the young witch wouldn't wear one either. Christine's face, however, was much paler than this particular witch's tan one, thus she added a type of powder, or face color, or what ever you want to call it, to make her face more pale. Medium brown eye shadow that matched her hair in color went on her eye lids, and her eyes were rimmed with eye liner. She barely had enough eyeliner on to be seen, but it added to the effect, none the less. Mascara went on her upper lashes. There wasn't a trace of the sticky stuff on her bottom lashes. Someone once told her that it looked bad when you put mascara on your bottom lashes, and the girl had listened. Not that she ever put make-up on anyways. This would be her second time where the stuff at Hogwarts, the first time being during the Yule Ball.

It wasn't that the girl didn't like to put on make-up. It sure made her feel good, making her look half decent. She wasn't the prettiest witch on the block, or, should I say, in her house. But she didn't have time to put it on every morning, and reapply it at lunch. Especially with the NEWTs coming up. If anyone needed to study, it was her. Or so she thought. Besides, she wasn't one of those prissy girls who flirted with guys all the time. No, her friends would laugh it she was. They probably wouldn't be her friends if she was that type of girl. Anyways, enough about how often 'Christine' put on make-up. I shall now tell you about her lips.

The makeshift Christine had a coat of blood red lipstick on. In truth, there were three layers on her normally light pink lips. First, she had coated her lips with clear lip gloss, so the red would be easy to take off when it was time. Second came the actual color, which, like I said earlier, was blood red. The color stood out from her seemingly pale skin, and was a nice contrast to the rose in her hair. The last, but certainly not least, layer was lip gloss. It made her lips shiny, so they reflected the light. The young witch like how it looked, so she wore it.

Now that I've bored you all with 'Christine's' make up, hair and eyes, I must go on to her clothing, which was every bit as perfect as the rest of her costume. She really didn't know why she was making her costume so perfect. She was probably only going to hang out by the refreshments table anyways. Maybe it was a habit. Yes, the habits of a perfectionist.

Ah, time to describe the master piece the girl's mother had sewed to fit her, and only her: The Dress. Yes, it is necessary for the words The and Dress to be capitalized. As I was saying... The Dress was mainly red and white. Wait, excuse that, the dress was all red and white. There was a strip of lace over each shoulder, connecting to the lace that rimmed the took of her dress. Below that, attached to the bottom of the lace, was a corset. This was just a costume, so the girl didn't tighten it very much. Just enough to make her look slightly skinny. Lets just say this: it was fitted. Underneath, and attached, the corset was a skirt. It was a pretty thing, reaching her heels, and ruffled. It also spread widely, like dresses in the Middle Ages, so 'Christine' had practiced sitting down for fifteen minutes, careful to arrange her skirts properly. Now, let me tell you which part of the dress was which color. The lace at the top was white, followed by the deep red corset. Her skirts were a creamy white color that looked good with her hair.

To complete her costume, the young Hogwarts student wore red slippers, the same red as the corset. They were worn purely for comfort, and their color, them being barely visible because of her skirt. They covered up most of the slippers. But just in case someone saw her feet, for reason I do not want to get into, or simply because she tripped, they had to be the right color. It would look pretty silly if the girl tripped, and the whole school saw bright pink slippers underneath her skirts. Sure, it would be amusing, but the girl wasn't dressed as Christine to amuse people. In fact, the girl didn't know why she was dressed as Christine. Okay, she did, but she wouldn't tell anyone. Not even her best friends.

It had been her mother's idea. A day after 'Christine' had sent the letter stating that there was going to be a masquerade ball, and she didn't know what to wear for a costume, her mother had replied. The girl's dear mother had written that she had the perfect costume in mind, and that her daughter would love it. She hadn't told her daughter what it was until she sent a note back through owl with a package attached to the note. Yep, you guessed it, the package was 'Christine's' costume. She loved it the moment she laid her eyes on it. And wrote her mother back immediately.

But when she saw the costume, the girl also felt a bit of resentment. She doubted she would be dancing with anyone at the ball. Hers just wasn't the right nature. Now, the resentment returned at full blow. She was ready to go to the Great Hall, looking more beautiful than she ever had before, and probably wouldn't never be again, and she probably wouldn't be dancing at all. Maybe she could just lie to her mother, saying she had a great time dancing, but she hadn't met anyone special. That they just hadn't appealed to her after the unmasking.

The unmasking.

That was another thing the girl feared. What if she was having a perfectly wonderful time with a guy (like that would ever happen), and when he found out who she was, hated her? That would make her feel horrible, even though the girl didn't care much for relationships. But just because she didn't care much didn't mean she wasn't a girl. She had a growing chest to prove the fact.

'Christine' brushed a lose piece of hair away from her face, and made her way down to the common room,and headed right out, following the path she knew so well to the great hall. She didn't speak to anyone on the way there, walking swiftly, so her secret wouldn't leak out. Okay, so it wasn't a secret, for everyone was dressed in come costume or another, but she still considered it private. Private until the unmasking. She'd probably feel really stupid when the unmasking occurred, for she had no mask. Maybe she'd get lucky, and her partner wouldn't have a mask either. Or would she be the only one without a mask. Now that would be downright embarrassing. Looking around, the girl spotted a rose lying on the ground. After a few seconds and some muttering on the girl's behalf, a smooth white mask was in her hands. It was nothing special, but it would do.

She slipped the mask over her head, careful not to smear anything (for what would be worse than smeared black mascara on a plain white mask?). Looking around, the girl realized that most people were probably in the Great Hall dancing already. Lifting up her skirts, the girl ran the remainder of the way. Nothing would be worse than making a grand entrance. She just wanted to slip into the Great Hall, hoping no one would know the difference. And that she did, somehow. Spotting the refreshment table, 'Christine' headed towards it, wishing someone would ask her to dance, and at the same time, hoping no one would, if you know what I mean.


End file.
